


Cross the Finish Line (You and I)

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Best Friends, F/M, Growing Up, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29373921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Ron and Hermione cornered him right as he got home from Diagon Alley, balancing bags of groceries across his arms.“How have you not figured out how to use magic for this?” Ron asked. “You look like a packing donkey.”“Yes, thanks,” Harry panted. “I don’t really need your snide commentary right now. This is how I’ve always done it.”“Sometimes, Harry,” Hermione said gently, “just because something has been done a certain way for a long time, doesn’t mean it’s the best or most efficient way to do said thing.”Harry rolled his eyes. “Me carrying groceries hardly requires the same speech you gave to the Ministry, Hermione.”She eyed him sceptically. “Really? Because from where I’m standing it looks like you kind of do.”orHarry plans a wedding.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1
Collections: Five Figure Fanwork Exchange 2020





	Cross the Finish Line (You and I)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hmweasley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmweasley/gifts).



> Title taken from the song "Nostalgic" by A R I Z O N A.

Ron and Hermione cornered him right as he got home from Diagon Alley, balancing bags of groceries across his arms.

“How have you not figured out how to use magic for this?” Ron asked. “You look like a packing donkey.”

“Yes, thanks,” Harry panted. “I don’t really need your snide commentary right now. This is how I’ve always done it.”

“Sometimes, Harry,” Hermione said gently, “just because something has been done a certain way for a long time, doesn’t mean it’s the best or most efficient way to do said thing.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Me carrying groceries hardly requires the same speech you gave to the Ministry, Hermione.”

She eyed him sceptically. “Really? Because from where I’m standing it looks like you kind of do.”

Harry sighed. “Alright, I’ll think about my actions for next time, but will you please get out of the way now? These bags are heavy.”

Ron was nice enough to open the front door for him and they followed him into the kitchen.

Harry started unpacking the groceries while Ron and Hermione made themselves comfortable at the kitchen table.

“Tea?” Harry asked, already switching on the kettle.

“That would be fantastic,” Hermione said. “I’ve been working double shifts lately to prepare for the McNair trial. It’s been a lot more work than I ever imagined.”

“That’s hectic,” Harry said. “Are you working this weekend too?”

Some of Harry’s friends liked to make fun of him for being a house-husband while Ginny toured the world with her Quidditch team, but the arrangement worked well for him. Ron and Hermione needed their careers. They liked staying busy and making a difference. Ron worked with George at the joke-shop for half the day and in the Auror office the rest of the time. Hermione was steadily working her way up in the Wizengamot. Harry loved seeing their success. They deserved every little bit of it, especially with how hard he knew they worked for it.

He, on the other hand, greatly enjoyed his life. He created fun projects for himself around the house, or sometimes in friends’ houses, if they asked him. Ginny liked to joke that some part of the house had been renovated every time she came home, but she didn’t seem to really mind.

The concept of home had always been greatly important to Harry. He loved that these days, his sole purpose every single day was to manifest that concept into the bare shell of a house that he had chosen to live in with Ginny when they got married.

He’d asked Hermione, at the beginning, if she thought it was a healthy lifestyle or if he should also be getting a job like everyone else seemed to. Her response had been to hug him tightly.

“There’s no right or wrong way to go about life, Harry. If you and Ginny are doing fine financially, which I know you are, you can do whatever you want with your life. You deserve the freedom to make your own decision about this without a sword hanging over your head, like it has your entire life. You don’t owe anybody anything.”

It had been massively freeing to hear that, and he hadn’t felt bad about his lack of career since.

“No, I’m off this weekend, luckily,” Hermione said. She shared a meaningful glance with Ron, then cleared her throat. “We actually stopped by with some news.”

The kettle whistled, and Harry filled up their mugs. “Oh?”

“Yeah, mate,” Ron said. He shifted in his seat, like he always did when they were having a conversation that was outside of his comfort zone.

Harry placed their tea in front of them and sat down across from them. “Alright, I’m all ears.”

Hermione couldn’t seem to help the wide smile that crossed her face. “We’re getting married.”

Harry wasn’t surprised at the news – of course he wasn’t. He was already married, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time before Ron and Hermione followed, especially with how smoothly their relationship seemed to be progressing. He was, however, very excited for his friends.

“Finally!” he exclaimed. “I’m so excited for you!”

Ron blushed and scrunched up his face. “Yeah, well, we actually have something to ask you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“You’re our best friend, Harry,” Hermione started, “and we were wondering if you would be willing to be both Ron’s best man and my maid-of-honour. I know it would be a lot of work, so you’re welcome to say no, but we talked about it and there’s really no one else we want by our side.”

Harry glanced between them, wrapping his hands around his warm mug. He didn’t have to think about it. He loved Ron and Hermione more than anyone in the world. He would do just about anything for them. “Yes, of course I’ll do it.”

Hermione sniffled, and Harry and Ron shared an alarmed look. They were both much more mature than they used to be at school, but Hermione crying still managed to spark an instinctive panic in them.

“I know you’re emotional, ‘Mione,” Ron said, “But we would greatly appreciate it if you could refrain from crying.”

Hermione smacked him in the shoulder, quite hard if Ron’s wince was anything to go by.

“I’m newly engaged. I’m allowed to cry as much as I want.”

Harry laughed at Ron’s frown. “This isn’t my problem, luckily. Marriage makes it entirely yours to deal with, Ron.”

Before Ron could answer, the front door opened.

“Harry?” Ginny called out.

Harry frowned. Ginny was only meant to be back in two weeks or so, after playing the semi-finals against Puddlemere United. He couldn’t help the spark of worry at having her back early, even if he was excited to see her.

“Kitchen,” he called back.

“She’s back early,” Ron said, clearly thinking the same thing as Harry.

“Yeah,” Harry said, just as Ginny appeared in the doorway. She looked radiant, and he stood up to hug her tightly, lifting her off the ground in the process. She giggled.

“Let me down, Harry.”

He complied and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “You’re home early.”

Ginny nodded, then seemed to notice that they had company. “Oh, hey, Ron, Hermione. What are you guys up to?”

“Oh, you know,” Hermione said, barely managing to conceal her giddiness. “We just came to tell Harry that we’re engaged.”

Ginny’s jaw dropped. “Get out! That’s amazing, Hermione!” She turned to Ron. “No offense, but we didn’t think you had it in you to ever ask.”

Ron looked taken aback. “Excuse me, that’s extremely rude.”

Ginny shrugged. “It’s true. You were taking so long with it, and we all know that you can be oblivious as fuck sometimes.”

Ron chose to let it go with an eyeroll. “Well, you were obviously wrong, because here we are.”

“Yes, here we are,” Ginny said. She glanced sideways at Harry. “Speaking of news, I didn’t come back early just because.”

Harry looked at her expectantly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Ginny said. “I’m pregnant.”

There were many things in Harry’s life that could be considered ‘difficult to handle’.

Growing up with people as nasty as the Dursley’s was tough. Spending his childhood being nearly murdered over and over again was less than ideal. Flying a dragon out of Gringott’s to escape certain death was certainly unpleasant. However, not even one of these traumas came close to what he was experiencing today.

“What do you _mean_ there’s a difference between ‘blush’ and ‘lemonade’?” Harry asked, holding the two pieces of cloth a little further from his face so he could see better. “They look perfectly identical to me.”

“Yes, sir,” the saleswoman said, not even bothering to hide her irritation anymore. He could hardly blame her – this was the third time this week that he had been there to ask about tablecloths, and it was only Tuesday. “Regardless of your feelings about it, Hermione requested the tablecloths be in ‘lemonade’, and we won’t have enough for all the tables in time for her wedding.”

“Do you have enough of the other one?” Harry squinted at the cloths in an attempt to see the difference. “Would she really notice if we didn’t use the exact right shade? It’ll still be pink.”

“In my experience, sir, it’s always better to tell the bride about any changes that needed to be made. Chances are she will notice, and she will be upset about it.”

Harry took in the saleswoman’s tired expression. “You deal with this bullshit every day?”

She fought a smile and gave him a stern look. “It is not bullshit, sir. Here at Britain’s Best Bridal Bits we strive to give every bride her dream day, exactly as she always imagined it.”

“Yes, I read that on the sign outside,” Harry teased. “But you _deal_ with this,” he lifted the cloth, “every single day. I’m just admiring your patience, that’s all.”

She finally allowed her smile to show, revealing a chip in her tooth and an adorable dimple on her left cheek. She reminded him a lot of Ginny when she was younger. “Thank you.”

He cleared his throat and returned his attention to the matter at hand. “Since you’re much more experienced than I am at this whole wedding thing, I’m going to take your advice. I’ll tell Hermione about the change and explain to her how absolutely identical the two colours are, and then I’ll send an owl to confirm our order.”

The saleswoman took the cloths back and made a note in her big black book. “Very well, sir. I’ll set them aside for you so long, and if there are any problems, we’ll deal with them when they pop up.”

Harry nodded. “Do I need to pay another deposit?”

She shook her head. “No sir, your previous deposit for the ‘lemonade’ tablecloths will carry over, since the shortage was our fault.” She glanced around the store, then leaned over the table as if she was about to share a secret. “Instead of telling her that the colours are identical, tell her that you checked to make sure the new colour falls within the same hue and nuance as the original colour so that it will be perfectly compatible with the rest of her colour scheme.”

Harry blinked. “I need to tell her what now?”

The woman grinned. “I speak bride, sir.”

“Well, I sure as shit don’t,” Harry said. “But thank you for trying. I’ll need to take my chances with ‘identical’”.

Harry sank down onto the couch in Ron’s office with a sigh. “Mate, you are so lucky that you never had to go through this pain for my wedding.”

Ron looked up from his paperwork with a raised eyebrow. “You really think Hermione didn’t make me help?”

“Fair enough,” Harry gave in. “But it’s so _hard_. I spent forty minutes at the venue today picking out serviettes that won’t clash with the new tablecloth colour, even though the new colour is _exactly the same_ as the old one.”

Ron shrugged and went back to writing. “You agreed to the position, it’s too late for any take-backs.”

Harry sighed deeply. “The question should come with a warning: _hey, would you like to fill the role of a Maid-of-Honour? It requires a lot of caring about shit that doesn’t matter and paying attention to which family members don’t get along._ Honestly, Ron, they’re worse than third years.”

Ron grinned at his parchment. “Sucks to be you, mate.”

“Anyway,” Harry yawned, “How are you doing? I feel like I’ve been seriously slacking on my best man duties because of all the bride nonsense I need to keep straight in my head.”

“Hmm,” Ron hummed absently. “You know me, I’m low maintenance. As long as I don’t have to wear Great Aunt Tessa’s smelly dressrobes, I will be perfectly content.”

Harry nodded. “A low bar, I like it. I’ll try not to fail you.”

Ron put down his quill and sent the parchment flying to some mysterious filing system that was going on in the bookcase behind him. “Honestly, I would just like a night off from wedding talk. Can’t we meet up with the guys at the Leaky or something?”

“Now that,” Harry said, “is a request I will gladly fulfil. How about tomorrow night?”

“It’s this door,” Harry said. “I’m a hundred percent sure of it.”

Ron squinted and wobbled slightly on his feet. “Nah, this knocker is too grumpy.”

Harry tilted his head so he could see the offensive knocker more clearly. “It looks perfectly cheery to me.”

The knocker stuck out its tongue and blew a nasty raspberry in Harry’s direction. He took a step back and had to brace himself against the wall to keep from falling over.

“Maybe you’re right, Ron.”

“Of course I’m right,” Ron slurred. “I’m always right, unless Hermione is involved.”

Harry snickered. “You’re whipped.”

“Yes, I am,” Ron agreed with a massive grin. “That’s why I’m getting married in five days, isn’t it?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “If the wedding is a disaster, please say nice things at my funeral.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ron waved him off. “Of course I won’t say nice things. It’ll just be an hour of me listing everything you did that annoyed me.” He sighed blissfully. “Ah, the sweet, sweet freedom now that Harry is no longer with us.”

Harry was about to retaliate, maybe by pushing Ron off the porch steps, when a voice stopped them.

“What are you two doing over there?”

They both turned abruptly to the next door over, standing in the slightly askew, mock innocent positions of the very-inebriated-but-trying-to-hide-it.

“Hey, Hermione,” Ron greeted, dragging it out far longer than needed.

“Don’t mind him,” Harry called. “I’ll have him home before midnight.”

“Yes, so you said.” Hermione might have looked amused, but Harry couldn’t quite tell through the blur of alcohol. “Problem is, it’s nearly two in the morning.”

Harry turned to Ron with wide eyes. “Were you aware of this?”

Ron shook his head. “Nope, no awareness here.”

Harry turned back to Hermione with a shrug. “Sorry, no awareness.”

She looked them over with a fond smile. “You’d better come in before you wake the rest of the neighbours.”

They managed to make their way to the right house with minimal stumbling, although Ron did stub his little toe against the stairs.

“Oh no,” Harry said, looking down at his friend who had fallen down on the ground in a dramatic indication of how much pain he was in.

“Leave me, Harry,” Ron moaned. “I’m dying.”

“This is less than ideal,” Harry announced. Hermione had gone back inside and was therefore no help at all. “Can you walk? Should I try to levitate you inside?”

“You can’t perform magic on me,” Ron said, peeking at Harry through squinted eyes. “You’re drunk.”

“Fair enough,” Harry said, “But you can’t walk.”

“I didn’t say that,” Ron argued.

“So you can walk?”

“What if my toe is broken?”

Harry frowned thoughtfully. “Then at least you’re drunk enough not to remember how much it hurt in the morning.”

Ron let out a wail. “I can’t get married with a broken toe, Harry, that would be a tragedy.”

“What’s going on?” Hermione, ever their saviour, had come to check on them. “Why aren’t you inside yet?”

“Ron thinks he broke his toe,” Harry explained. “He won’t let me levitate him.”

“Good,” Hermione said. “You’re inebriated.”

“So is he,” Harry argued.

Hermione sighed. “Ron, sweetheart, please come inside so I can take a look at your toe.” Ron ignored her. “There’s still some of your mom’s brownies left.”

That did the trick, and before Harry could even blink, Ron had jumped up and tackled Hermione in a sloppy hug.

“You’re the best almost-wife ever, Hermione, do you know that?”

Hermione gently nudged him away from her and through the front door. “Yeah, yeah, just get inside.” She turned to Harry. “Are you coming in?”

Harry sighed. “Yes, I’d better make sure the groom doesn’t suffer a terrible injury that will ruin the wedding. It’s my duty.”

Hermione closed the door behind him. “I’m going to put Ron to bed; you’re welcome to crash on the couch for the night. I’ll be right down with some bedding.”

Harry yawned and sank down onto the couch on autopilot. “Thanks, Hermione,” he mumbled into the pillow.

He must have dozed off for a minute or two, because he startled awake when Hermione dropped a pile of blankets onto his legs. He moved over to make space for her, and she slotted herself in next to him effortlessly. They still shared a kind of comfortable closeness that meant the world to Harry.

He’d been afraid that Ron and Hermione’s relationship would change the friendships he shared with each of them. It seemed, though, that there were some things in life that can’t be experienced together without creating a lasting bond.

“How’s Ron?”

“Perfectly fine,” Hermione answered. “Though that might not be the case come morning. Luckily I still have some hangover potion left from my Bachelorette party.”

“Good,” Harry said, rubbing at his eyes.

“Did you have a good night?” Hermione asked.

“Definitely,” Harry mumbled around another yawn. “We haven’t had a real boys’ night in a while. It’s just been wedding, wedding, wedding. I never knew it required this much planning, it’s honestly ridiculous.”

Hermione giggled. “I also think that some of the decisions they’re having me make is beyond ridiculous, but I can appreciate the pressure some brides feel to have nothing go wrong on this day that had been hyped up to them since before they could talk.”

“You don’t feel the same pressure?” Harry wasn’t sure if he believed her. He’d seen the anxious way she snapped at Ron whenever they were all working on wedding stuff together.

“Oh, I definitely feel pressure,” Hermione amended, “but it’s not because I want the event to match any preconceived expectations. It just feels to me like my mother and Molly and Ron’s entire extended family are trying to micromanage my wedding for me and I don’t like it. Their hovering and arguing honestly drives me nuts.”

“At least it’s almost over. There’s not much they can change now,” Harry said. “Are you still happy with all the arrangements we made?”

Hermione ran a soothing hand through his hair and it was all he could do to keep his eyes open. “Thank you for all your hard work, Harry. I notice it every day and I appreciate you. I’m happy. You don’t need to worry.”

He relaxed into the couch, letting Hermione’s assurances and soft touch lull him to sleep. He felt her tuck a heavy blanket around him, and then he drifted off into peaceful unconsciousness.

“I look ridiculous, Harry.”

Harry stopped fiddling with his tie to frown at Hermione. “What do you mean?”

Hermione huffed in the direction of the mirror, making a strand of hair bounce lightly away from her face. She had just changed into her wedding dress with the help of Ginny, who had already left again to make sure her brother didn’t do anything ridiculous like spell his shoelaces together. Her hair was sleeked up into a gorgeous updo and Harry found himself sneaking glances at her every chance he got. He would never love her in the way that Ron did, but he could appreciate how grown up she looked.

It still didn’t always feel real to him that they weren’t children anymore. Ginny was two months pregnant, meaning that pretty soon he would be a father. Hermione was adamant about waiting to have children until her career was more stable, but it was definitely also something she wanted. It was overwhelming to be confronted with the reality of how fast time moved.

“Look at all this fabric.” Hermione lifted handfuls of bouncy fabric and let it fall again. “Why did I ever think this dress was a good idea? And why didn’t you tell me I would like a giant fluffed up snowman?”

Harry shook his head at the imagery. “Calm down, Hermione. Your emotions are just running high right now because you’re about to get married.”

“That doesn’t make the dress any less awful,” she argued, sneering at the mirror in disgust. “Is it too late to get a new one?”

“Yes.” Harry came to stand behind her, running his hands soothingly along her arms. “Listen to me, Hermione. We need to get some rational thoughts back into this anxiety-riddled head of yours. Take a deep breath.”

She did as he said, and after the third breath he felt the tension under his fingertips melt away.

“Okay,” he said. “Now, what’s happening today?”

“It’s my wedding day,” she said, rolling her eyes. He ignored her.

“Yes. Who are you marrying?”

“Ron.” She smiled. “Weird as it may be.”

“Why is it weird?”

She hesitated, but didn’t go back to panicking, so Harry took it as a good sign.

“We’ve been friends for so long. I know exactly how he looked during his awkward puberty phase. I know what a ridiculous human being he is, and if my second-year self could hear about what I’m about to do, she would be horrified.”

“But you still want to marry him?”

“Yes, of course I do.” Hermione wiggled around and he let go of her arms. “I want to be married to him so badly, I just wish it wasn’t accompanied by all of this hassle.”

Harry smiled at her reflection. “It’ll be over soon enough. You’ve made it through much worse things, remember? And we chose the menu, so even if the entire event feels like suffering, you can wash it down with some pistachio crème brulee.”

Hermione let out a wishful sigh. “Okay, I can make it to the crème brulee. Short term goals. No more panicking. The dress is what it is, unfortunately.”

“The dress is beautiful,” Harry said. “You look beautiful, Hermione, and I mean that with my entire heart.”

Hermione turned and threw her arms around him, exactly like she had always done when she thought he was about to die. It was a nice change to have them all safe and sound.

“I love you, Harry,” she mumbled into his neck. “Thank you for everything.”

“Of course,” he said, squeezing her tightly. “Now are you ready to go make Ron embarrass himself in front of everyone he knows?”

“Funny seeing you here.”

Harry turned to grin at his wife, who had managed to find him where he was hiding behind a pillar.

Everything had gone about as smoothly as could be hoped for. Hermione didn’t trip while walking down the isle, but Ron did drop her wedding ring when he tried to put it on her finger. He then got so flustered that he dropped it two more times in his attempt to pick it up until Harry took pity on him and did it for him.

Other than that there was an issue with the guest numbers that had been given to the caterers, but Harry managed to sort it out without too much fuss. As of yet, there had been no comments about the tablecloths being the wrong colour, and Harry had taken the opportunity to slip away as soon as the dancing was well underway.

“What do you mean? I’m observing the festivities from a different angle. I have to be thorough in making sure everything is fine, you know.”

Ginny nodded knowingly. “Of course.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him down so they were both sitting on the floor with their backs against the pillar. “You did a great job with the planning. Even my Aunt Greta thinks so, and you know how impossible she is to please.”

It was true. Greta seemed to hold extra amounts of contempt just for Harry, and he’d been half convinced that she would hate every decision he made simply because it had been him who made it.

“That’s very good to hear,” he said. He shifted so he could put his arm around her. “I’ve barely had time to breathe all night. Did I tell you that you look spectacular in that dress?”

It was a very nice dress. She’d been looking forward to wearing it for weeks, and it absolutely did not disappoint.

“I know,” Ginny said confidently. “And you did tell me, several times. There’s no need to worry about that.”

He pressed a quick kiss against her cheek.

“So, who are you hiding from?”

Harry groaned. “Hermione’s mother wants me to dance with her.”

Ginny giggled. Mrs Granger, when tipsy, could be very aggressive with her affection, and she happened to be right on the verge of drunk already. “Wouldn’t it be better to get it over with? That way you can enjoy the party you worked so hard on.”

Harry pulled a face. “I’d honestly just hide out here a little longer. Parties aren’t really my thing.”

Ginny ran a comforting hand down the nape of his neck. “I’ll keep you company.”

“There’s really no need,” Harry said. “You know it’s only a matter of time before one of your brothers comes to bully you into dancing with them.”

Ginny wiggled so she could sit more comfortably against the wall. “Yes, well, I happen to be carrying another human inside me, so they have to respect my requests to sit down.”

Harry laughed. “I’m sure George and Charlie will do just that.”

She rolled her eyes. “George is too busy planning some elaborate prank on Ron to pay much attention to me, thank Merlin.”

Harry groaned. “I’m honestly too fed up to care about what he’s planning.”

“Are you really?” Ginny asked.

Harry shot her a look. “Yes. Let him cause all the havoc he wants.”

“Alright,” Ginny said, voice heavy with amusement. “I can’t wait for the wedding cake to explode all over Uncle Ignatius.”

“Nope,” Harry said, “I don’t care.”

George didn’t put explosives in the wedding cake, but he did somehow manage to dress up a couple of garden gnomes and bribe them into performing a dance all along the centre of the guests’ tables during dessert.

As pranks went, it could have been much worse, and Harry could appreciate the finesse that went into it.

It did turn a little chaotic, however, when one of the gnomes managed to grab hold of Mrs Granger’s hair and swing along as she tried to shake it off, screaming bloody murder all the while. This made the rest of the guests frantic too, and it was all Harry and Hermione could do to convince everyone to step outside for a breath of fresh air while they dealt with the gnomes.

“Bloody _George_ , honestly,” Ron muttered as he yanked a stubborn gnome out from under a table. “Making me hunt gnomes, of all things, on my wedding day.”

“It must be hard for him,” Hermione said, efficiently stunning a gnome that had tried to make a run for the door. “Him and Fred probably planned this together. You know how meticulous they were with this kind of thing.”

“I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” Ron muttered. “This entire scheme reeks of Fred’s sense of humour.”

Harry smiled ruefully. “It does make me much less angry.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. There was nothing Fred enjoyed more than annoying me. I’ll pay him the respect he deserves and be extra ticked off.”

Harry and Hermione shared a quick glance.

“That’s sweet of you, Ron,” Hermione said. “I think.”

Harry couldn’t help himself. The stress of the last few months, as well as the absolute ridiculousness of the gnomes and Hermione’s continued confusion at Ron’s attempt at emotions, made him burst out laughing.

“What?” Ron asked, an amused smile on his face. “It’s true.”

Hermione also giggled. “We know, Ron. It’s just been a long day.”

“That it has,” Harry agreed. “Did you at least enjoy it?”

“Are you kidding?” Ron asked, getting up from the floor. He dusted off the back of his pants. “Are weddings ever enjoyable? I am yet to go to one that wasn’t terrifying.”

“You’ve only been to three weddings, Ron,” Hermione pointed out. “Bill’s ended with us on the run for our lives, Harry’s was chaotic because we were the ones planning it, and this was our wedding. It’s meant to be terrifying.”

“Exactly,” Ron said. “If three out of three weddings were terrifying, it’s pretty safe to assume that all weddings are. We should never go to one again.”

“Dean and Seamus are getting married next month,” Harry pointed out. “I think you’re out of luck, mate.”

“Bugger.” Ron looked genuinely crestfallen. “There’d better be an open bar.”

“Are you kidding?” Hermione asked. “Seamus will make sure there’s enough whiskey for all of us to bath in.”

“I know you’re technically kidding, Hermione, but a whiskey-filled pool is not out of the realms of possibility. It might just be for the stag party instead of the actual wedding.”

Ron perked up at Harry’s words. “Ooh, do you reckon we can suggest that to Neville? Would he go for it?”

Harry pulled a face. “I’m not sure if I’m into the idea of sitting in a hot-tub filled with alcohol with a bunch of other men. Way too much sweat involved.”

Hermione shuddered. “The whole thing sounds barbaric.”

“It’ll be fine, we just need to get really wasted first,” Ron argued. “I’m going to suggest it to Neville. Seamus will go nuts for it, won’t he?”

Harry snickered. “We’ll need to have someone on standby to set out the inevitable fire that’ll come from Seamus in a tub of flammable liquid.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Hermione groaned. “The more I think about this, the worst it gets.”

“Or better,” Ron said. “We’re doing it.”

Harry peeked out of the window. The guests were starting to look a little restless. “We should tell everyone it’s safe to come back inside. Did we get all of them?”

“Who knows, they’re gnomes,” Ron pointed out. “But yeah, for all intents and purposes.”

Hermione sighed. “Parties are exhausting.”

“I know,” Harry agreed. “It’s almost done.”

It felt so right to be with the two of them. Harry thought that he could hardly wait to see what else life had in store for them. Children, married life, careers. It was all so sickeningly normal and not at all something he ever imagined he would be allowed to have.


End file.
